


A STAR IS BORN

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-14
Updated: 2007-12-14
Packaged: 2018-12-17 17:26:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: #1 in The Star Nursery Series. The science twins put their heads together and devise a way to access the 8th Chevron. On their first trip outside the galaxy, Daniel comes home with an interesting tattoo, while Jack finds his usual snarkiness seriously curtailed.





	A STAR IS BORN

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

A STAR IS BORN

 

_April 16, 2002 - The O’Neill Home - Rooftop Observatory_

_From the Personal Diary of Colonel Jack O’Neill  
(Which, by the very nature of the beast, is only in his head)_

_I should have gone with ‘em._

_You don’t turn down the Hubble Space Telescope lightly, but - and there’s always a but - I would have had to listen to Carter and Daniel’s techno babble for hours on end._

_It would have taken all the joy out of it._

_So I stayed home._

_And now I’m regretting it._

_Naturally._

_I can hear Daniel’s voice as clearly as if he were sprawled in the deck chair across from me, saying, “Told ya so.”_

_Teal’c’s probably bored out of his gourd, but at least I know someone is watching their six while they’re watching other galaxies._

_If the kids are right, and they always are, we may have to apply for Universal passports. Don’t know that our Galaxy ones will let us on and off-world anymore._

_What do ya want to bet I end up heartily regretting I let them make this trip alone?_

* * *

_April 30, Briefing Room – 2300 Hours_

“So – what’s so important it couldn’t wait until morning?” Colonel Jack O’Neill scowled at the glance his question sparked between the science twins.

“Major Carter and Daniel Jackson have made a discovery of significant importance, O’Neill,” Teal’c opined. 

“Significant importance,” Jack parroted in a drawl. “One small step for man, one giant leap . . .” 

“Nothing like that, sir,” Carter interrupted.

“We don’t know that, Sam,” Dr. Jackson murmured his disagreement, “this could very well be the next quantum leap.”

Jack pulled out the chair next to Teal’c as the General joined them from his office, rubbing his hands anticipatorily. 

“So your mission was successful,” General Hammond pronounced jovially, pulling out his usual chair at the head of the table. “Congratulations, Major, Dr. Jackson. I assume, since we’re here at this hour of the evening, you’re finally prepared to give a full briefing on this project you’ve been working on?”

“Sorry, sir, we weren’t really thinking. After all this time, I suppose it could have waited until morning. But, yes,” SG-1’s theoretical astrophysicist glanced at her watch with a frown, “we are. We could postpone this, sir,” she grimaced. “We didn’t realize what time it was. We were . . .” she trailed off.

“. . . a little excited, sir,” Daniel picked up. 

“What? Postpone?” O’Neill declaimed in his best Shakespearean accent. “Never! We’re here, Carter, let’s get this show on the road.”

“You’re sure, I mean -” Sam glanced at Daniel, “it’s not imperative we do this tonight.”

Daniel clasped his hands under the table and kept his mouth shut. They’d done it! He was guardedly optimistic the hours and hours and hours they’d put into this project would shortly come to fruition, though Sam had warned him TPTB might very well nix the idea without giving it a moment’s consideration. He understood it was the way the military mindset dictated, but was relatively certain if they could convince Jack, Hammond would follow. Jack’s special ops experience gave him a unique perspective the General often deferred to, so frequently, it was Jack’s vote that swung the jury.

Daniel had suggested, strongly, and been backed up by Teal’c, that Sam make the presentation. These days it seemed anything he put forth was quashed immediately and with particular relish by their team leader. Cloaked as it was in the guise of self-preservation, of which the archeologist had none, the deliberate artifice had taken awhile to sink in, but when it finally did, it sank deep and spread its tendrils lethally into the heart of that friendship.

“Dr. Jackson?”

“Sorry.” Daniel shook off his preoccupation. “What?”

“Earth to Daniel.” Jack leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair and propped his chin in his hand. “You going to start this briefing anytime in the next century?”

“Oh . . . ahhhh,” he glanced at Sam, then at General Hammond. “Uhm, Sam’s going to . . . uhhhh . . . do the show and tell. She’s better at putting the techno babble into layman’s terms than I am.”

“Should we order breakfast or are we going to get started tonight?”

“Colonel.” The General sighed audibly. “Major Carter, your initial proposal was intriguing; I assume your time at NASA bore fruit.”

“Yes, sir, our theory was right on target. With the data we collected I believe we will be able to pinpoint which galaxies have planets with Stargates, sir, and during our down time at NASA, Daniel . . . well, we came up with an idea I think is imminently workable to provide the extra power the gate needs to dial a galaxy beyond our own, cost effectively, sir. A naquadah-enhanced, solar-powered generator. And if necessary, I think we could call on the Orbanian’s for assistance if we run into problems along the way. I’ve already set the computer to work on a cold dialing program for outside our galaxy, sir. It should be ready to go by the time we have the generator on-line and up to full power.” Major Carter pushed back from the table, and rose, leaning across the table to pick up the remote. The star map sprang to life as a high resolution video screen with a fantastical, weirdly-colored image.

“The Eagle Nebula,” Jack murmured. “They call it the star nursery.”

“Owing to the fact it is the perfect environment in which to incubate new stars,” Teal’c added.

“Exactly,” Carter enthused. “But what we discovered is that especially when two galaxies have a collision,” she clicked the remote and the picture changed to two masses of spiraling light colliding, “it leaves a signature of sorts that can tell us a lot about each of the galaxies. You’ll remember we’d theorized clear back when Hathor showed up at the Mountain, there was something about the Stargate that drew . . . things . . . or . . .” she shrugged and repeated, “okay, things, to it. So we kind of turned that theory on its head and wondered if maybe the gate puts off something that’s measurable. For the last six months we’ve been bringing back samples of anything we can think of from every place we’ve gone. I also asked my dad if the Tok’ra would collect samples, particularly during their subspace travels since they do considerably more traveling by ship than we do. We used a modified flytrap essentially, but it did the job, sir. We were able to identify trace elements of naquadah that are identifiable if you know what to look for.”

The high-tech screen flashed black for a moment, and then a pinprick of light appeared off to the left of the monitor. Sam tapped the enlarger button several times. 

“This is magnified approximately a billion times so you can see this particular speck, so to speak, has properties that make it identifiable from . . .” she split the screen and put up a distinctly different magnified particle, “this one.” She split the screen again and the first picture was replicated on screen. “The identical pictures on either side of the middle particle are actually two different pictures, taken from two different galaxies, our own and what they’re calling the Whirlpool galaxy, where they discovered the Eagle Nebula.”

Sam cleared the screen and put the particles up side by side, enlarging them even further so they were distinguishable from each other.

“The clarity suffered when we enlarged these, but we wanted to see the differences as well as the similarities,” she offered, tracing both with her laser pointer. “These are naquadah particles from different galaxies.”

“The leap you’re making is a sizeable one, Major,” the Colonel observed. “Seems like a long step off a short pier.”

“Possibly, sir, though we don’t think so. There’s more in the report I won’t bore you with, but we believe we have a viable means – not only of locating, but transporting us to – other gates outside our own galaxy. Isn’t that worth the investment to explore the prospect?”

“What’s the proposed budget for this ‘exploration’?” Jack inquired dryly.

Sam cleared her throat, “We think we can have it up and running on as little as 9.2 billion, sir. That includes production of the solar-powered naquadah generator, and . . .” Wait for it, she thought gleefully, pausing significantly before repeating, “And we think we can finance that with the useable public domain technology that could spin off of this if we have one of our private-sector sub-contractors do the actual production.”

One eyebrow flew up. “Now you’re talking my language.” Jack sat up interestedly. “I assume you’ve made inquiries, Major?”

“Yes, sir. I gave the specs to three of our sub-contractors and asked for proposed bids,” Sam smiled ruefully, “that’s how we came up with the numbers.”

“Colonel?” the General solicited.

“Sounds like the kids have done their homework, sir.”

General Hammond nodded, a rare full-blown smile creasing the usually austere features. “I’m impressed, people. I think you’ve nailed it, I don’t see how the Joint Chiefs could possibly turn down this proposal seeing as you’ve figured out how to finance it already. I’ll get if off tonight. Is there anything further, Major?”

“One thing, sir; these were all Daniel’s ideas, I just made the science part of it work for him.”

“Well done, Dr. Jackson,” General Hammond beamed. 

“Well done, indeed, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c added, inclining his head in obeisance.

“Always knew you were one smart cookie; a few chips shy on the common sense end, but hey, we can overlook that when you pull off something this brilliant.”

The Jaffa turned his head to look directly at their C.O. “Your irreverence under the circumstances is unappreciated, O’Neill.”

Jack returned the stare unfazed. “Missed you too, Teal’c.”

Daniel laid his pen down on the legal pad on the table in front of him. He’d won; that was all that mattered. “If we’re done, sir, I have things I need to do.” He glanced expectantly at the General.

“It’s nearly midnight, son. Go home,” the General ordered kindly. “You’ve outdone yourself here, worry about what’s on your desk tomorrow.”

Daniel sighed inwardly. An order was an order, no matter how benevolently bestowed; the General likely thought he was doing him a favor. “Yes, sir.”

General Hammond rose, tapping his knuckles on the table, “Excellent job as usual. Dismissed, Colonel, Major. Goodnight, Teal’c, Dr. Jackson. I’ll see you people in the morning.”

Sam tossed the remote down in front of O’Neill as the General disappeared into his office. 

“There are lots more pictures, sir. Have fun.” She rounded the table, leaning over the arm of the chair to gather up her stuff. “Meet you at the surface?” she asked the archeologist.

“Thanks, I do need a ride.” Daniel rose. “Goodnight, Teal’c, thanks for your help, ‘night, Jack.”

Colonel O’Neill picked up the remote as Teal’c stood too. “You’re all deserting me?”

“Tired, sir. We put in a lot of hours on this project,” Sam said over her shoulder, giving Daniel a gentle shove through the door when he hesitated. “See you in the morning.”

“It was difficult to achieve a deep state of kelnorim in the cramped quarters we were assigned at NASA. I have need of a long session. I, too, shall retire. O’Neill.” Teal’c’s brief nod bore none of the respect he’d just bestowed on Daniel.

Colonel Jonathan ‘Jack’ O’Neill switched off the high tech screen so it became a star map again, tossed the remote back on the table, and leaned back with a sigh. He’d known the decision to send them off alone was going to come back to bite him in the ass, though he hadn’t expected it to happen quite so quickly.

* * *

_June 12th - Whirlpool Galaxy – 9:30 Hours (EMT)*  
*Earth Mountain Time_

Teal’c stepped out of the wormhole into the gold mist as though stepping over a threshold. Behind him, his companions variously fell, tripped, and stumbled out of the blue light.

“Oh for cryin’ out loud!” O’Neill jolted to his knees swearing a blue streak as fire shot up his thigh. “I thought we’d fine-tuned the damn thing so this didn’t happen anymore, what the hell is going on?” he demanded through gritted teeth.

Daniel, who’d remained on his feet only because he’d slammed into Teal’c and been caught by the quick reflexive grab of the Jaffa, latched onto the hand fisted in the front of his jacket. “Down, please. Gently,” he requested breathlessly.

Sam staggered several steps beyond the event horizon and promptly parted with breakfast. “Different . . .” she gasped, gagged, and vomited again. “Different trajectories. Just . . . different, sir. Could be the effect of traveling through those nebulas in this galaxy, I don’t know. I’ll have to analyze the data when we get back.” She wiped the back of her sleeve across her mouth and straightened slowly, glancing around with wide eyes. “We did it,” she whispered, then louder, in jubilation, “Daniel! Teal’c! We did it!”

The exclusion was nearly as sharp as the pain in his knee. The Colonel shifted to put his weight on his good leg and shoved up to a standing position, automatically, if somewhat belatedly, raising his weapon. “Perimeter sweep, Teal’c.”

The Stargate here was partially buried in earth that glittered as though it was made of crushed gold and silver. A misty glow, apparently radiating from the ground, infused the heavy fog limiting visibility to no more than a few hundred yards.

“Carter, I want an air quality report by the time I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam was already pulling small hand-held instruments out of various pockets. “Hey, you okay,” she asked, glancing across at Daniel who was still sitting on the ground where Teal’c had lowered him.

“Will be, give me a minute.”

“Wild ride, huh?” Sam commiserated, calibrating one of her little gizmos.

“Mmmm,” Daniel agreed. “But we’re here.”

Sam grinned. “Thanks to you, Wonder Boy.”

Daniel snorted. “An unqualified endorsement,” he marveled with saccharin sweetness.

“Sorry,” Sam said unrepentantly. “Just like the malp reported, breathable atmosphere, slightly different from our own, but nothing harmful present.”

“At least that we can identify.”

“True. But we knew it was a risk. Need a hand?” Sam offered.

Daniel took it with gratitude. Standing slowly, it felt like the tilted alien world righted itself a bit and slowed its axis spin accommodatingly. Opening one eye, he cautiously peered at the instrument in Sam’s hand. “What does that mean?” he pointed at a redlined number.

“Oh, that’s the ratio of oxygenated air to poisonous gasses.”

“Oh!” Daniel repeated. “That’s all.”

“I’m gonna take some soil samples too. Give me a hand would you,” Sam said, turning her back to him. “The sample kit is in the top right corner of my pack.”

Opening both eyes, Daniel obligingly dug for the small kit. “This one?” he asked.

“That’s the one. Thanks.” She immediately knelt and busied herself with a spoon she dug out of yet another pocket. “I’ll just be a few minutes, okay? Then we can look for the formation the malp showed. Don’t wander off into the fog without one of us.”

“Yes, mother.”

Sam looked up at the sour tone. “I’m not -”

“I know,” Daniel interrupted hastily. “I’m sorry, I was on automatic.”

“Well, get out of it, you can’t be on automatic in a place like this, you have to be alert and aware constantly.”

“I know, I know. Switching off immediately. What can I do to help?”

“Hold these.” Sam shoved her hand toward him so he could remove the multiple test tubes stuck between her fingers.

“What’s the word?” The colonel materialized out of the fog, stopping inside the gate ring to look up at the inside of the massive stone structure.

“We probably shouldn’t stay more than a few hours this first time out, sir, but everything appears to bear out the initial malp readings.”

“So did we see any honkin’ huge space guns on the aerial survey?”

“The infrared showed an interesting looking formation to the west of the gate, sir; however, if it is a weapon, it’s been dormant for too long to give off an energy signature.”

“So no big honkin’ space guns,” the Colonel sighed.

“At least not evident with our technology, sir.”

“I’m sure we still have to go look at it though. Let’s go, Daniel.”

“Sir, I’ll go -”

“It still says Colonel on my uniform, Carter, and I am still nominally in charge of this team.” Jack palmed his radio, “Teal’c, does this work here?”

“It does, O’Neill.”

“Where are you? I’m sending Carter to join you. The two of you can see what’s east of here.”

“I am behind you.” The Jaffa strode into view as his teammates spun around. “The foggy ground cover is nearly impenetrable a few hundred yards beyond the gate. I believe it would be unwise to separate our forces, O’Neill. Our GPS locators do not work here.”

“Ya think?” Jack snarked, glancing ostensibly at the sky, though none was visible through the bright misty glow. “Maybe their satellite system is down.”

“Goa’uld tracking devices do not rely on orbital systems, they are keyed to various technologies such as Stargates,” Teal’c replied. “I had momentarily forgotten your quaint devices were keyed to your planet, O’Neill.”

Apparently his team had done a lot of bonding without him while they’d been gone. 

Daniel had pointedly ignored Jack’s needling over his undisguised excitement as they’d waited for the gate to open, keeping his gaze determinedly on the empty round ring. 

He’d shot one triumphant glance at his C.O. as the event horizon flared out and settled back into its designated ring, then headed up the ramp hot on Teal’c’s heels, and without a backwards glance.

A step ahead of O’Neill, Carter had turned her head over her shoulder, leveling a stare that should have knocked him on his ass and said quietly, “Teal’c and I aren’t putting up with your shitty behavior toward Daniel anymore.”

“That would be shitty behavior, sir, Carter.”

She’d turned, deliberately noncompliant, and marched into the blue puddle.

Standing on an alien planet, with his entire team radiating insubordination, O’Neill opted to retreat rather than take them all on at once. He would, however, reestablish order, even if it meant busting Carter back to a private for a few weeks and suspending all civil liberties for the archeologist and the Jaffa.

“Fine, we’ll all go west, young man.” Orienting off the Stargate, Jack tucked his P-90 into his side and waved his half-gloved hand in the general direction of west. “Teal’c, take point.” His reflections as he took up a position several steps to the rear of the ragged column of three, were less than pleasant. “What’s the ETA on this tourist attraction, Carter?”

“A couple of hours, sir, at pace. It’s about ten klicks from the gate.”

The science twins jabbered techno-babble non-stop the entire hour, with Teal’c occasionally interjecting a comment that would send them flying off on some new tangent. 

In the meantime, eyes glazing over with boredom, O’Neill studied what little there was to see of the terrain.

Treeless, in fact no vegetation at all in sight, just a vast unending vista of silvery-golden ground and silvery-golden glow. It was a touch disconcerting. The Colonel kept his eyes uncomfortably peeled. The limited visibility was making him itch.

Putting on some speed, he caught up with Teal’c. “You see anything in your travels that might indicate any kind of life form?”

“Nothing, O’Neill. I believe Daniel Jackson is correct in his assessment that the environment does not support habitation. He suspects the planet has long been uninhabited.”

“And so the first place we find outside our own galaxy is an old abandoned . . . what? Naquadah dump site?” Jack kicked up a fine film of the not-soil, the particles of which hung suspended in the air momentarily before floating back to earth. “Carter?” He scuffed his boot again when she turned around. “Why?”

“The gravitational pull is slightly less here than at home. It’s directly proportional to the weight of the object. If you weighed what one of those particles weighed, you’d be floating too, sir. Haven’t you noticed how much easier it is to move? It’s because we don’t weigh quite as much here either.”

What he’d noticed was that his knee was giving him fits, no matter how much he weighed. This formation, whatever it turned out to be, better be worth its weight in naquadah, preferably weapons-grade naquadah.

He’d also noticed the archeologist’s chattering had abruptly ceased the moment he’d hoved up next to Teal’c. A part of him wanted the kid to enjoy this new experience, but a larger, more insidious part was unprepared to cut him any slack. 

Over the last several months in particular, O’Neill had become increasingly aware of his lack of control over SG-1, and he placed the blame squarely on the shoulders of their only civilian team member. Daniel’s continual chafing at the unyielding military rules governing their day-to-day lives had been irritating, but when it began to rub off on both Carter and Teal’c, it had become intolerable. He could barely issue an order without being second-guessed anymore, and often out-right challenged. 

Daniel, strangely enough, had backed off, but the other two had immediately squared off for the opportunity to fill the gap. 

Indecisiveness was unforgivable, especially in himself, and the conflicting duality of wanting to give and take away at the same time was driving him NUTS. Jack drifted back, very aware of the immediate reactivation of the talk button on the archeologist.

Some things were going to change after this mission. SG-1 wasn’t putting a toe through the gate until this issue was resolved to his satisfaction, Jack decided, and if he came off sounding dictatorial - so be it – he was, after all, still the Colonel.

His head swiveled around at the sound of Daniel’s gasp, followed closely by Carter’s equally awed, “Holy Hannah!”

Through the mist the outlines of a vast crystalline structure were beginning to take shape. It was angled slightly north and south, according to their westward heading, and appeared from a distance, to resemble a vast longboat. A mass of vapors roiled continuously over the edges in a waterfall of silver and gold mist, shot through with color-saturated ribbons of light far too intense to be called mere turquoise, or purple, or pink. Even the most vivid Earth colors looked like they’d been mixed with mud in comparison. 

Jack snatched a handful of jacket when Daniel, who’d stopped in momentary mesmerization, started off again. “Wait,” he commanded. “Carter. What is it?”

“Nothing’s changed on my readings, sir. It doesn’t appear to be comprised of anything harmful to us.”

“How ‘bout we just watch it for a few minutes.”

“Jack!” Daniel practically howled. “We’ve come all this way and you want to stand and watch it?”

“You can stand still, or I can hold you in place,” O’Neill responded uncompromisingly. “Teal’c?”

“Do you wish me to reconnoiter, O’Neill?”

“Thank you.” 

As Teal’c closed the half-a-klick distance, the size of the thing began to register. It appeared to be at least three times the height of the Jaffa and minimally a klick in length, though the swirling mist made a true appraisal of size difficult at a distance.

“Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn, and caldron bubble,” O’Neill quoted mirthlessly. “I’m thinking we oughta turn around and go home, kids. I don’t like the looks of that.”

Daniel bowed his head briefly. “Sometimes, Jack, you can be such a prick.”

“Excuse me?” Surprised, not only by the language, but the venom in the tone, O’Neill stomped past the archeologist and spun around to face him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Very uncharacteristically, Daniel squared his shoulders, and his hands, though he kept them at his sides, clenched. “What? You need to me give you a definition of the word prick?” He didn’t wait for a response before adding caustically, “In this case it means an obnoxious person. We’ve come light years, light years,” he repeated empathically, “across who knows how many galaxies to get here and you want to throw up your hands and go home because something looks . . . WHAT? Weird? Alien? Suspicious, Jack? You fill in the blank!” Sucking in a deep breath, Daniel glanced at his companion. “I’m sorry, Sam. I tried it your way, but the canonization apparently didn’t stick.” He turned back to Jack. “I feel sorry for you, going through life only ever seeing the risk and never the beauty. I’m going to look at it - if it kills me, so much the better. At least I die free,” he snarled Teal’c’s customary line.

“Think you made him mad, sir,” Carter observed, and followed the linguist.

Oh yeah – his team had gone to hell in a hand basket. Colonel O’Neill briefly considered heading back to the Stargate and reporting them all AWOL. The fantasy was nice - for about five seconds - before he gave in with a scowl. He re-shouldered his P-90 and headed after his wayward bunch; someone had to keep them out of trouble.

And naturally, the first thing he saw as he strode up was the archeologist snatching back his hand. “Oh for cryin’ out loud!”

Dr. Jackson jerked his head around, swearing incoherently. Bad enough the damn crystal thingy had stung like an entire nest of bees and his fingers now throbbed deep down in the bone, but to have Jack barreling down on him just iced the cake. He’d hopped nimbly across the deep, but narrow, moat-like declivity to ascend the shallow steps of the massive silvery-white pedestal into which the crystal basin was sunk. Having translated the flowing script in the process, he’d reached up over his head to touch the beauty of the carved lettering. And been zapped for his curiosity. 

“Let me see your hand.”

“I’m fine.” Maybe several nests of bees combined came closer to the reality of the sting, or an electrical current at full voltage.

“Now,” Jack hissed furiously. “Carter! He’d seen the spark - or flare, or arch – whatever the hell it had been. “Bring the med kit!”

Reluctantly, Daniel lifted his right hand, cradled in his left.

“Carter!” Jack barked again, carefully taking Daniel’s hand between his own, wrapping his long fingers tourniquet fashion around the slender wrist. The foggy mist seemed to be increasing around the base of the structure; O’Neill was certain visibility was decreasing proportionately and the itch had become a full-fledged scratch. 

“On my way, sir!” a disembodied voice responded. 

”Watch the moat thingy!”

A moment later Carter appeared on the opposite side of the moat, shrugging out of her backpack as she assessed the jump. “What happened?” 

“Daniel touched something, what else? Do you have any idea how many missions we’ve had to scrub because you touched something?” Jack deftly caught the backpack she pitched over, without releasing the archeologist’s wrist.

“I suppose you do?” Daniel returned, glaring at the back of O’Neill’s head. “Anyway, it’s my job.”

“Yeah, and keeping you safe is my job! I wish you’d make it less impossible! And it’s seventeen for your information.” 

“Holy Hannah!” Sam exclaimed. Welting blisters had already begun to form on Daniel’s right hand. “That’s gotta hurt.” 

“Yeah, kinda sorta,” the archeologist agreed, tugging at his hand with a scowl for his C.O. 

“Hold still,” Jack commanded, relinquishing his hold on the P-90 under his arm as he tightened his grip on the burnt hand. “Are you feeling this beyond your fingers?” 

“I’m not feeling much of anything beyond my wrist,” Daniel countered impassively.

Jack’s response was to tighten _his_ fingers. “Look at this,” he snapped at his field medic. “Tell me that is not spreading.”

“That looks like radiation burns to me, sir, and you shouldn’t be touching him. If it’s going to spread, nothing you can do will stop it.”

Dr. Jackson wrapped his own fingers around his wrist. “I’ve got it.”

“Is there a problem?” Teal’c materialized out of the mist as well.

“Same old, same old,” the Colonel grumbled exasperatedly. “Get to the gate, Teal’c. Let them know we’re coming in hot.”

The Jaffa turned immediately, slipping soundlessly back into the bright, foggy mist.

Sam had pulled on gloves and was smearing some kind of ointment on the blisters, which now covered Daniel’s entire palm and were rapidly spreading up the inside of his wrist as well. “I’m sorry, Daniel, but I need you to take off your jacket.”

“What we need to do is get off this damn planet. Frasier can look at it at home. Let’s go,” O’Neill ordered.

“But . . .”

”I swear, Daniel, one word about staying and I’m going to personally knock you up side the head with my P-90 and drag your body back to the Gate.”

“I haven’t even – Jack, please!” Daniel planted both feet as he was snatched by the back of the collar and jerked forward. The Colonel’s extra two inches and twenty pounds, in addition to the swift and unexpected action, had the archeologist stumbling forward whether he wanted to or not. “Dammit, Jack!” Daniel wrenched free of the hand on his collar. “What the hell is the matter with you? Have you completely lost what’s left of your mind?”

“Obviously,” O’Neill snarled. “Clear back when I first said yes to this little brainchild of yours!”

“Stop it, both of you!” Carter ordered. “One of these days I’m going to tape the two of you and make you watch yourselves when you go at it like this! I don’t understand what’s gotten into either of you lately, but I sure wish one of your would figure it out and offer to kiss and make up!”

Two heads swiveled toward her with identical annoyed expressions.

“What?” O’Neill ground out between clenched teeth.

Sam closed her eyes momentarily, drawing on every bit of military training she possessed to pull herself together. She had never, in her entire career, lost it like this with a superior officer, but then, she’d never before had a superior officer like Jack O’Neill. 

“As field medical officer for this team,” she stated calmly, “this is my jurisdiction. I would appreciate it if you would let me do my job and remove yourself from the vicinity . . . sir,” she added, after an appreciable pause, and only to make her point.

She was on the receiving end of a long, steady look she returned in spades, but the Colonel ultimately turned on his boot heel and spun around, muttering maledictions upon his rebellious team as he strode down off the dais, took the ditch in one long-legged stride, and disappeared into the mist after the Jaffa.

“Sam,” Daniel began.

“Dammit, Daniel, he’s right about this! It is difficult to keep you safe.” Major Carter snatched up the hand that had been unceremoniously yanked from her grasp and finished applying ointment to the blistered fingers and palm. “And it’s not only SOP to go back to base when a team member is this severely compromised, it’s just plain common sense. Now get out of that jacket and let me see how bad it is already.”

“Let’s just –”

“Now,” she ordered. “I did everything I could to make this a success for you and what happens this first time out? You get yourself hurt. ”

”I’m sorry,” Daniel murmured. Jack, he fought or ignored by turns; he could do neither with Sam. Without another word he shrugged out of the jacket and extended his arm for inspection.

His hand was rotated, fingers spread apart and thoroughly scrutinized from both sides before Sam smeared on more salve. The blistering appeared to have stopped just below his elbow and affected only the inside of his arm. However, beautiful tendrils and curlicues of phosphorescent green were spiraling around his wrist and up his entire arm as if some sinister tattoo artist plied his trade.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not so much anymore.”

Sam raised her head and caught his eye before he could look away. “Does it hurt,” she repeated, feeling him flinch.

”No more than it did before,” he sighed.

“What kind of pain is it?”

They had lots of experience with these kinds of questions. Naming it often helped Janet diagnose whatever ailed them.

“Like bee stings,” Daniel replied promptly. “Thousands of bee stings. It aches way down deep in the bone.”

“Your whole arm?” Sam finished by loosely wrapping gauze from the tips of his fingers to his elbow, tucking the tail inside the top edge of the bandage.

”No, just my hand. Beyond my wrist it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Not even the blisters?” She held up his jacket, but he shook his head and slid a finger through the loop the tag made, slinging it over his shoulder.

“Honestly? The hand hurts bad enough I don’t feel the blisters.”

“Well, it doesn’t appear to be swelling yet. Thankfully it’s not far back to the Stargate. Where’s your pack?”

Daniel turned in a circle, searching the ground around where he was standing, but Sam spied it first and scooped it up. 

“Sam,” he began anxiously. “I -”

“I’ll get what I can, but I’m not risking further wrath by staying any longer than absolutely necessary.” She found the video camera tucked securely in a corner Daniel’s pack, and pulled it out.

“Thank you.”

“Better thanks would be to keep your hands off things until you know what they are.”

“I know what it is. It’s a source, or a spring. The inscription reads – The Birth Place of Hope.”

“How appropriate,” Sam deadpanned, as she backed slowly down the steps. “Who could resist touching the birth place of hope?” 

“Not me,” the archeologist replied softly, following her down.

“What?” Sam glanced over her shoulder, turned to jump the moat, and started down the side of the oval, horse-track-sized basin, switching over to wide angle. 

“Nothing. Try to get . . .” he trailed off.

“Daniel?” When he didn’t answer, Sam lowered the camera. Her first thought, when she saw his transfixed gaze, was, _oh, crap, the Colonel’s gonna have my head._ It was the sound that made her turn her own head and look toward the basin again.

It was like a thousand violins tuning up; like the echo of wind tearing down a canyon beyond the velocity of sound; like the roar of an ocean inside innumerable seashells. 

It was like no earthly noise she’d ever heard. She could feel the ground humming beneath their feet. It was awesome and terrifying and beautiful and . . . holy in some unspeakable way.

She would have tackled the archeologist if she hadn’t been rooted to the spot. Sam strained every molecule of her formidable will against the unseen force holding her prisoner, but not an atom of her body would respond to the frantic messages her brain was sending. He was going to do it again and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She had a sudden sense of overwhelming empathy for their C.O.

Daniel took a step forward, then another, as though irresistibly drawn toward the sound. 

_Come to me,_ the music whispered. _Come to me,_ the symphony repeated over and over, treble and bass clefs twining the same theme inside and out, around and under, between and over, until his whole being pulsed with the melody. 

_Healing waters for your troubled soul. Take it, beloved . . . Come, let me heal you._

_Jack is so gonna kill me,_ Daniel thought, desperately trying to resist the sentient call whispering through the music even as his feet carried him back up the steps. He didn’t realize he’d put his hand into the water suddenly sheeting over the side of the crystal basin until Sam’s bandage, saturated and heavy, began to unravel. 

Nothing happened.

The marrow-deep ache in his hand continued to throb, the blisters actually seemed to plump up, though that was perhaps the magnification of the water, and the tracery of green continued to spiral around his upper arm. The color did seem to bloom brightly as if florescent and exposed to black light, but that might have been attributable to the water as well. 

“Daniel!” Released from her imprisonment, Sam vaulted over the declivity toward the archeologist as he went down with boneless fluidity. She slammed to her knees, keying her radio. “Sir,” she panted, fighting the constriction in her chest, “we need a med team, Daniel’s . . .” her fingers sought frantically for a pulse. “Unconscious. He’s just unconscious.” She sagged over the still form in relief. “He’s just unconscious,” she repeated. 

Snarling inarticulately the Colonel reversed his direction and headed back toward the basin. “Give us ninety minutes, Teal’c. If we’re not back, bring reinforcements.”

“Understood.” 

“On second thought, better make it two hours; I’m twenty minutes out from them already.”

“I will wait, O’Neill.”

* * *

_Same Day - Briefing Room – 14:30 Hours_

“It was beautiful beyond description, sir. This picture hardly does it justice,” Sam was saying as Daniel reached the top of the stairs into the briefing room.

“Dr. Jackson,” General Hammond turned to greet the archeologist, doing his best not to stare at the beautiful green markings decorating the right side of Jackson’s face. “You’re sure you’re up to this, son?”

“I’m fine, sir. It wasn’t radiation burns, and the blisters are mostly gone already. Dr. Frasier released me; she said I had to stay on base though.”

“I believe that would be for the best.”

“You can always say your tattoo artist got a little carried away,” Jack murmured. “If it doesn’t go away.”

“Sorry it took me so long to get here,” Daniel offered, ignoring the Colonel. He pulled out a chair next to the man, rather than across the table, in the vain hope sitting next to him might hamper the staring.

“Scrubbing didn’t help?” that irrepressible gentlemen inquired under his breath.

“Shut up,” Daniel muttered equally _sotto voce_. “My apologies, General Hammond,” he offered aloud. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Not a problem. Glad you’re all right and that you could make it to this briefing. Major Carter was just about to tell us your translation of the writing on the crystal –” the General waved a hand toward the picture on the screen, “entity you encountered. Do you believe it was sentient, Dr. Jackson? And what was the translation?”

“Good question. No, I don’t believe it’s sentient; however, it spoke to me, sir.”

“Spoke to you?” Jack turned sideways in his chair, not bothering to hide his grin. “What did it say?”

“The script is very similar to the language we found on that plaque from the Four Alliances, sir, the one we’ve ascribed to the Furlings. I’ve made a little more progress with it since Jack’s encounter with the alien achieve, but hearing it spoken may be the key to unlocking it. I think the inscription may have been something along the lines of a descriptive plaque.”

“A descriptive plaque?” General Hammond questioned.

“Like the stuff you get on your teeth?” Jack wanted to know. 

“Like the kind of thing you see on monuments or old buildings. A descriptor that tells you what you’re looking at.”

When there was no more forth coming explanation, the Colonel leaned an elbow on his chair arm and propped his cheek in his hand. “Stay tuned for previews of tomorrow’s episode, Part II, of – ouch – what was that all about?” He swiveled his head around toward Teal’c when he was kicked under the table.

“Please allow Daniel Jackson to conclude his remarks without further interruption.”

“The Birth Place of Hope,” Daniel put in quickly, “The inscription reads - The Birth Place of Hope. It’s not the name of the place; it’s the description of the place.” 

“All right,” General Hammond recapped. “You’re attaching significant importance to this description, then?” 

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m trying to get across.” 

“Why?”

“I suspect we may have accidentally stumbled on a grail kind of artifact, sir.”

“Grail? As in holy grail?” Hammond inquired.

“The word grail is often used as a sort of synonym for a prolonged search or endeavor, sir. A quest, if you will. I think this spring, this source - the place from where hope springs eternal - might be a place of pilgrimage. I remember being with my parents in Lourdes years ago and the imprint of history, of connectedness with all the souls that had come before and would come after me. I was very young, but it’s always been a very clear memory and it overlaid itself today, like a perfect match, sir. Whatever the place is – it likely has great spiritual significance to the occupants of that galaxy though it may very well have been lost to that culture and become the stuff of myths and legends. It didn’t appear to be a highly-trafficked place.” Daniel paused briefly. “I doubt the rest will agree with me, but it felt . . . holy.”

“Holy crap,” Jack muttered, though his intent was foiled by Teal’c’s sudden clearing of his throat. 

“No, I felt it too,” Sam spoke up in agreement.

“You said it spoke to you?”

“Yes, sir, it spoke to me of healing waters.”

“Really?” Jack murmured, barely refraining from rolling his eyes.

“Healing waters,” General Hammond echoed. “Then it was sentient?”

“Perhaps, but in my opinion, sir, no. I suspect, like the holograms we originally encountered on Cimmeria, and later on Katal, the relic is activated by some kind of a trip mechanism. It could be something as innocuous as just being in the vicinity.”

“But it spoke to you of healing waters.”

“Yeah, and this is the part I don’t get,” Jack inserted. “Why would it hurt you and then fix you?”

“The waterfall didn’t start until after the music began and though it didn’t heal the burns right away, I suspect if I hadn’t put my hand in the water, this . . .” Daniel indicated the tracery of green on the side of his face, “might have had a different effect on me.” He had spent quite a bit of time in the shower trying to scrub it off, to no avail. 

“Different? As in down your leg instead of up your arm? Pink instead of green? Less floral, more geometric?” O’Neill threw up his hands. “Different how?”

“Different as in dead. I think the water neutralized . . . this,” Daniel replied, flicking his wrist again. 

“I repeat,” O’Neill intoned, “why would it hurt you just to fix you?”

Daniel picked up his pen and began to click it nervously. “To understand that, I’d have to learn the lore or legend of the place.”

“But you have a theory?” Jack inquired politely.

The pen clicked faster and the archeologist shrugged. 

“Spill,” the Colonel prompted sourly. 

“It’s just a theory. I have no facts to base it on, only feelings, so I don’t think it’s particularly relevant to this discussion.”

“Perhaps you should let us be the judge of that, Dr. Jackson,” General Hammond suggested.

Daniel glanced at the General, then turned his head to look at Jack. The merest hint of defiance colored his voice as he said, “I don’t think it necessarily works on everybody. Maybe we could try it on you. See if it would fix that knee of yours.”

Colonel O’Neill smiled ferally. He’d said nothing about his knee, just gone to his office after the post-mission exam and treated it with those handy dandy hot and cold packs. Trust Daniel to notice. 

“Nice try, Plant Boy, but we’re not going back. General, I think we can count this mission a bust. This crystal thingy was nearly 10 klicks beyond the gate and we were battling that ground fog the entire distance. The UAV didn’t come up with anything else; I think we can scrub this planet from the list of potential honkin’ big space guns, sir.”

“I’d like to go back, sir. I think it’s definitely worth exploring more thoroughly. We barely saw a quarter of the artifact. This could be something similar to Thor’s Hammer on Cimmeria.”

“There was nothing holy about Thor’s Hammer. I see no reason to go back, sir.”

“Major Carter? Is there any chance you could backwards engineer the technology if you had time to study this artifact?”

“I have no idea, sir. There was no chance to even take a good look at it.”

“All right, people, get your reports to me before you the leave the Mountain, I’ll let you know what the decision is regarding returning. Dismissed, SG-1.” General Hammond rose, officially closing the briefing. “Colonel, stay by for a moment.”

Jack had risen with his commander and now waited while his teammates gathered their belongings and left the room in a knot. He turned as the door closed behind them, an eyebrow raised.

“Sit down.”

Colonel O’Neill resumed his seat.

The General remained standing, fingertips pressed against the table top. “What do I need to do to facilitate resolving this situation between you and Dr. Jackson? Do you want me to move him to another team?”

“No,” Jack responded instantly, and without thought, adding a belated, “sir.”

Hammond waited a moment before asking, “Are you aware Dr. Jackson has asked, more than once now, to be reassigned.”

“No, sir.”

“If he asks me again, I’m going to let him move, Jack,” the General imparted matter-of-factly.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed, Colonel.”

“Sir,” O’Neill rose with a nod. He waited until the General had returned to his office and wandered over to the window overlooking the Gate room. SG-7 was geared up and standing below, waiting to leave. A diplomatic mission they’d asked to borrow Daniel for, to which O’Neill had responded with a _no_ without ever passing on the request to the archeologist. 

He’d only recently stopped letting Daniel decide where and with whom he left the planet, because the kid rarely, if ever, turned down another team’s request. Since it appeared the linguist was incapable of pacing himself, the Colonel had begun filtering the personnel requisitions, with Daniel none the wiser.

Jack turned away from the window with a sigh and went in search of his team. 

He wasn’t surprised to find them huddled in Daniel’s lab, clustered around the end of the counter piled high with books and cluttered with Earth and alien artifacts. 

“Even if it did work like Thor’s Hammer,” Carter was saying, straightening from studying the picture lying on the counter, “that doesn’t stop the Gould from hammering us from space, Daniel.”

“Guns, guns, guns,” Daniel sighed. “Doesn’t anybody around here think about anything besides guns? It was beautiful, Sam.”

“Beauty is of little use, Daniel Jackson, if you are not alive to enjoy it.”

“Well said, Teal’c,” Jack applauded, strolling casually into the office. “My place, tonight, 7:00 o’clock. I’ll provide supper and beer. Bring anything else you want.”

“I can’t leave the base,” Daniel responded without looking up.

Damn, he’d forgotten already. Jack shrugged. “Fine, Daniel’s quarters, 7:00 p.m., I’ll bring the pizza and beer.”

“It’s been a long day, Jack, I’m not really up to entertaining tonight.”

“What? Like we’re expecting you to get up on the table to sing and dance for us? What’s entertaining got to do with eating and drinking? You have to do that anyway.” O’Neill did an about face and strode out whistling snatches of Copacabana. “Don’t worry, Dr. Jackson,” he stuck his head back around the door, “we’ll make sure you get your beauty rest.”

“Where’s a zat when you need one,” Daniel sighed as the Colonel’s rapidly retreating footsteps died away.

_Team time,_ Jack thought, _that’s what we need. Reestablish order in the SG-1 universe, do a little bonding over pizza and beer, and things will be copasetic. And, oh yeah, don’t ever send ‘em off alone again._

* * *

_A Week Later - Ready Room – 7:45 Hours_

The decision had come down from the top brass, no big honkin’ space guns, it wasn’t worth returning to the planet for further reconnaissance. The crystal artifact was interesting only if it was a weapon, which it did not appear to be. Resources were limited, no matter the genius science twins had figured out a way to finance these off-universe expeditions without having to dip into the United States Treasury, the manifesto was clear – weapons to defend earth.

Team night in Daniel’s quarters had been a lesson in civil disobedience. Daniel had eaten the pizza put in front of him as hastily as possible and disappeared behind his laptop, refusing to be drawn into any conversation, grunts being his only form of communication.

Surprisingly, the intervening week had gone better. Less sniping, smoother team work, reduced friction, fewer brushes with death – which might have contributed to all of the above.

They were gearing up in the locker room for a standard recon mission, no fancy smancy stuff today, just same old, same old, when Jack glanced over at the linguist. “Daniel, are you loosing weight again?” 

The Jaffa warrior also paused in his gear-up process. “Daniel Jackson, I believe you are loosing inches as well.”

Both Teal’c and the Colonel were on the receiving end of the now standard look of recrimination. “No,” Daniel scoffed. “We were just issued new clothes. You know damn well nothing ever fits me.”

Teal’c strode across the locker room to plant himself next to the archeologist. “I do not believe so.”

Jack, sitting on the bench to put his boots on, looked over his shoulder. “What the hell -” he was on his feet before he realized he’d risen. “Is going on?” He stalked over to the archeologist and grabbed an arm. “Infirmary, right now,” he ordered.

“I just came from there, I’m not going back, and they’re waiting for us, Jack. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Daniel Jackson, is it not true that you come approximately to here on me?” Teal’c made a short chopping motion close to his left cheek.

“I wasn’t standing up straight. Look.” Daniel straightened next to the Jaffa – and felt his stomach drop to his knees. He barely topped Teal’c’s shoulder. His hands went automatically to the belt he’d had to tighten two notches further than usual and his gaze came up to meet Jack’s. Without volition, he raised a hand back up to trace the fading greenery on his cheek. “Oh, shit,” he whispered.

“Infirmary,” Jack repeated, garnering no resistance as he pulled the linguist toward the door. “Teal’c, tell ‘em to hold on dialing the Gate. I doubt we’ll be going anywhere today.”

There was no conversation as they boarded the elevator and hit the button for the infirmary level. 

Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to control the rising panic. It wasn’t true; they were pulling a practical joke on him. Teal’c had been wearing lifts inside his boots; they’d switched out his belt for another, larger one; they’d lowered the floor. It had nothing to do with the withering vines decorating his arm and face.

As they exited the elevator, Jack briefly clasped a hand around the back of the archeologist’s neck, surprising both of them. “Whatever it is, Daniel, we’ll fix it.”

It had been a long time since Jack had spoken to him in that tone of voice. The warmth of the oh-so-familiar reassuring hand went straight to the source of the panic, easing the unfamiliar feeling of fear and the archeologist entered the infirmary with considerably less trepidation than he’d left the locker room.

“Colonel? Daniel?” Dr. Frasier handed off a chart to the nurse standing next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“We may have a little problem here, Doc.” 

“And what would be the nature of the problem, Colonel? I just saw both of you and gave you a clean bill of health.”

O’Neill nodded. “Yes, but did you happen to weigh and measure . . .” he started to say, Plant Boy, but the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth, the only thing he could get out was, “Daniel?” and he nearly strangled on the name.

“As you very well know, we always weigh you; however, as you’re equally aware, height is rarely measured.”

“So how much less did Daniel weigh this morning?”

“A few pounds. Why? Daniel’s weight always fluctuates. When he drops too much I sic the three of you on him to make him start eating again. Why?” Dr. Frasier repeated.

“Weigh him again. I want to know exactly how much he’s lost. And check his height as well.”

“Sir -”

“Humor me, Doc.”

Dr. Frasier looked to the archeologist who only shrugged with a grimace, but followed her without complaint. That alone was enough to ding her radar; when Daniel was compliant regarding medical issues, there was something very wrong.

The worried look on her face when she brought him back was enough to notch up O’Neill’s concern, though he kept his own face impassively calm. “So?”

“Eight pounds, sir, and two and a half inches.”

Oh – this was so not good news.

“In a week,” Jack calculated out loud. “You should maybe market this as the latest, greatest weight loss craze. Dr. Jackson’s Alien South Beach Diet; you could make a fortune.”

“This is serious,” Dr. Frasier said pointedly. “Weight loss can be explained, shrinking cannot, sir.”

“Oh, yes it can,” Jack countered wearily. “That stuff on his face has done something to him.”

“Sir, I don’t think . . .” Dr. Frasier trailed off, reconsidering. “Let me go pull those test results. Daniel, I’m sorry, but I think you probably should stay here and let me monitor you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, I feel fine, Janet. I need to go look at the video from U2R-M31.”

“Colonel, I think you and Sam and Teal’c ought to be weighed and measured as well.”

“Fine, but Daniel’s the only with green on his face, Doc. You’re gonna find we’re all normal.”

“Maybe so, but a quick check wouldn’t go amiss. In the meantime, Daniel, you can stay in one of the medical suites, I’ll have an SF bring whatever you need from your office.”

Neither the archeologist, nor the Colonel, missed the subtext – isolation.

“We can stay with him, can’t we?” Jack asked, noting the apprehensive self-hug and cautiously clasping his hand around the back of Daniel’s neck again. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the Colonel bother to worry about Daniel’s state of mind. That alone would have convinced her, but the crossed arms and anxiously drawn features nailed Janet’s ability to say no. “For now, sir, since you’ve all been exposed anyway.”

“The entire base has been exposed, Doc.”

”Yes, let’s hope your assessment is correct, Colonel.”

Jack reached automatically for his radio, forgetting he hadn’t made it to the vest stage in his gear-up process. “Guess I’ll go get Carter and Teal’c. What’s the most immediate thing you need from your office, Daniel?”

“My laptop and the camera. The USB cord should be right there with it, I haven’t downloaded that video to the laptop yet.”

“I’ll grab it on the way back.” 

“Jack . . .”

O’Neill turned back, an eyebrow raised questioningly. “Daniel?”

_Don’t go!_ “Never mind.” _Don’t leave me alone._

“You and Carter and the doc will figure this out, you always do. Go on, go with the doc, I’ll be back shortly.”

When Daniel failed to move, Jack took him by the elbows and physically turned him around. “Frasier’s gonna set you up in one of the med suites, follow the white coat.”

“Right. Go with Janet.” Unbidden, an image of men in white, looming over him in a padded cell, superimposed itself over the SGC infirmary and his feet refused to budge.

“What now?”

“Sorry,” Daniel shook off the memory, but his feet seem rooted to the spot. “Don’t . . .” _Leave me!_ “Don’t . . . forget the USB cord.”

O’Neill reached down to knead the sudden stabbing pain in his knee. “All right, forget it. On second thought, Doc, send an SF down to Daniel’s office right away, would ya, and have him collect Carter and Teal’c too – if they’re not already on their way.”

“Yes, sir. What’s wrong with your knee, sir?” Dr. Frasier asked as she flipped through keycards on a chain and slid one through the reader to open the door of suite one.

“Nothing, bit of a twinge is all.” 

“I’ll get you some ice.”

“It’s not that bad of a twinge.”

“What did you do?”

“Wrenched it again, when the gate spit us out on U2R-M31,” Daniel supplied, gravitating to the mirror over the dresser as Jack pulled a chair out from the table.

“I don’t remember your sharing that information with me, sir.”

“Didn’t share it with Daniel, either,” O’Neill grunted, stretching out his knee with a grimace. “And I have no idea why it just flared up.”

“I’ll bring you an ice pack. Daniel?”

“I doubt an ice pack will counteract shrinking,” he replied, finding the physician over his shoulder in the mirror. “But okay, if you insist. Head or feet? Whatta you think?”

“I’ll bring you two,” Janet countered, smiling. “Much better, you had me worried there for a couple of seconds. Is there anything else you’d like?”

Behind him, the Colonel sighed loudly. “You know very well fear isn’t a word in his extensive vocabulary, Doc.”

“I can use it appropriately in a sentence,” Daniel replied, turning from the mirror to lean back against the dresser. “If I have to. Coffee?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll arrange with Supplies to bring a hot plate and we’ll keep you supplied with coffee, within bounds, Dr. Jackson.”

It was more than he’d hoped for, his caffeine supply usually being the first thing revoked when he got himself into these situations. “Thanks, Janet.” He could always get Sam to smuggle in some more if his supply ran low.

“Ya know,” Jack leaned forward to massage his knee, “last night when you were packing for this trip, you were taking books down easily from the top shelves of your bookcases. Puts a bit of a different slant on things.”

“Yeah, that occurred to me as well. Which just means in ten days I could be a foot high.”

“I thought you hated math.”

“Hating it doesn’t mean I can’t do it.”

“At lightening speed no less. Ten days, huh? A foot high? Wonder if _Honey, I Shrunk the Kid_ might give us any clues. Hey! I could carry you around in a shoebox. That would certainly make my job easier.”

“A Teal’c-sized shoe box,” Daniel agreed.

“We’ll option the shoebox for when you get to six inches or less.”

“I’ll leave you two gentlemen to figure out the housing issues here, I’m going to go pull test results and send someone to collect the things you want. Daniel, I want additional blood and urine samples. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Can’t wait,” Daniel replied dryly, pushing off the dresser to pace as the door closed behind the diminutive Napoleonic power monger. 

“You’re wasting energy,” Jack observed. “Sit down.”

“Aside from the fact it’s my energy to waste, I may have a lot to waste in the next ten days, so leave me alone.”

Jack was wrong, though arguing the point would just be another of their fruitless roundaboutions. Daniel understood fear as well as anybody else on his team; the only difference was he never stopped to calculate why fear might be a good thing in any given situation. 

He was battling a healthy dose of it now, just below the surface calm he was working hard to maintain, and he needed to be in his office where he could walk by and rub the funerary statute, or touch the pharaoh’s bust, or palm any other of the dozens of artifacts in his office that soothed and comforted. So the first order of business was to figure out how to isolate what had caused this sudden vertical challenge and convince the doc he was unlikely to shrink down to the size of mitochondria – at least not overnight.

“You ought to be channeling all that energy into figuring out what the hell’s going on here.”

On a long-suffering sigh, Daniel reached the zenith of his path and made a u-turn. “Indeed,” he responded, channeling his Jaffa friend. “Except, unfortunately, not everything is an esoteric idea to be divined by the student of the arcane, sometimes you need cold, hard facts to come up with a hypothesis. And right now I’m fresh out of arcane ideas _and_ cold, hard facts. Any other short comings you’d like to point out while we’re on the subject?”

“As a matter-of-fact . . .” Jack began, only to be interrupted by a sharp knock at the door heralding the arrival of Carter and Teal’c – Carter, fortuitously bearing Daniel’s laptop and the camera, while Teal’c bore a coffee maker and carafe. 

The Jaffa rolled out a small rubber mat on top of the dresser and settled his accoutrements, withdrawing from one of the side pockets of his BDUs, half a bag of freshly ground Sumatra Mandehling and from another pocket, a box of individual sugar packets. “Dr. Frasier has assured me she will keep you supplied with cream as well.”

“Thank you, Teal’c.”

“May I prepare your coffee, Daniel Jackson?”

Daniel, already ensconced at the table fiddling with the camera as his lap top powered up, didn’t even glance up. “Thanks,” he repeated. “That’d be great.” Ten days didn’t seem like a very long time.

* * *

_72 Hours Later_

“Never a dull day,” Dr. Frasier observed, as she knocked lightly on the door to the suite. “Hi, Sam.”

Sam put a finger to her lips. “He finally fell asleep a little bit ago.”

“I know and I hate to wake him up, but I need to do the hourly blood draw.”

Sam motioned her friend back with a wave and stepped into the hall with her, pulling the door partially closed. “Do we have to wake him up, Janet?” she whispered. “What good is this doing?”

“You know as well as I do we have to keep on top of this.”

“I do understand that, but what we’ve done has been useless. What possible help could it be to know his body is pouring more hormones into his system, or that his potassium levels have dropped again?” Sam hissed angrily. 

She’d never felt so helpless in her life. Her friend was shrinking before her very eyes and they’d been unable to find anything to even deter the process. 

“I know you’re feeling frustrated and helpless right now,” Janet replied patiently, “but I need blood chemistries to determine how to keep those hormones in check and his potassium and electrolytes in balance, not to mention it also tells me how his kidneys are functioning and where his blood sugar is.”

Sam sighed wearily. “I know, I know. Just an hour, Janet, give him this hour, please?”

Janet echoed the sigh. An hour probably wouldn’t make a huge difference in the overall scheme of things. “All right.” Last time she’d been in to draw blood, Daniel, standing, had looked her straight in the eye.

“Thank you,” Sam breathed softly. “He’s sublimated the fear, you know, and is just resigned now. It was the Colonel who finally got him to sleep.”

“I know.” She’d watched it on the monitor. 

The Colonel, exhibiting contrarily different behavior, had coaxed and cajoled the exhausted archeologist to finally lie down and had proceeded to sit beside him and rub his back until Daniel had at last fallen asleep. When she’d left her office, the Colonel had still been sitting on the bed, his hand resting between the narrow shoulder blades, occasionally soothing when Daniel moved restlessly in his sleep. 

They’d had to find smaller scrubs twice already and at the rate he was shrinking, it wouldn’t be long before there was nothing on base small enough to fit even nominally. Janet made a mental note to send someone out for – supplies - she didn’t want to think in terms of children’s clothes, though a day or two more of this and they might have to think in terms of . . . no, she wouldn’t go there.

Neither did she want to think of the consequences should they be unable to stop it. They’d quickly isolated the mutating little bugger swimming around in Daniel’s blood and been able to replicate the shrinking almost immediately with a lab rat - who’d shrunk down to nothing but an oily spot on the bottom of the cage. 

Without a word, she and Sam had turned away, returning with renewed vigor to their microscopes.

Daniel’s big blue eyes were beseeching every time she came to do more tests or draw more blood, and taking up more and more of his face. The glasses had been discarded as far too big for the small, fine-boned face. 

She would give him this hour, maybe even stretch it to two if she could quiet the still, small voice urgently whispering that doing anything was better than nothing. Sleep could heal things her pills and potions could never hope to treat and offer retreat from the nightmare for awhile a least. On second thought, Sam was right, it didn’t really matter if his hormones were raging or his blood sugar dropped off the charts. He wasn’t going to die of either in the next few hours – if she could do nothing else for him, she could give him this bit of respite. 

She would let him sleep for as long as possible.

* * *

Throughout the ordeal, allies had come and gone, meeting with General Hammond, or sometimes one or more members of SG-1, depending on who was available.

The Tok’ra had come and talked about treaties and technology and the fact that the SGC had violated the treaty by not sharing the new technology to power the gate in order to leave the galaxy. 

Lya, from the Nox, had come, congratulating the SGC on opening the door and being brave enough to step beyond the portals of their known galaxy and offered to take Daniel home with her. She’d been certain she could halt the progress, though not reverse it, if he wished to live among the Nox for the remainder of his life. The team C.O. and strategist had tucked that thought away for future reference if necessary, but had returned a ‘no, thanks’ on Daniel’s behalf. 

The Argosians had unreservedly handed over the remains of their false god, Pelops, with the idea that perhaps one little nanocyte all on its own might tame the nightmare shrinking process. But the risk of it reproducing itself and not only reversing the process, but aging Daniel as rapidly as he’d shrunk, hadn’t appealed to any of them. Least of all, Daniel. 

The SGC sent a team of divers to Oannes in hopes of locating Nem, though they had no luck. They’d found the underwater lab deserted - and underwater - the technology destroyed by the slow seepage of seawater from mechanical failure of whatever technology had been employed to keep out the ocean and oxygenate the air inside the lab. 

What wasn’t immovably bolted to floor in what remained of Machello’s lab had been brought back to the SGC and thoroughly examined as well. 

They’d even contacted the Game Keeper, with the thought that one of his machines could, at the very least, sustain life until they could figure out some kind of alternative. 

By the time the wild and wooly Shavadai warlord, Moughal, had dropped in looking for Chieftain Carter to negotiate on behalf of one of his daughters who wanted to marry outside the clan, Jack had been willing to entertain any idea. He’d briefly considered Moughal’s offer to take Daniel back to his Shaman in order to cast out the evil spirits. 

Daniel, however, had refused to go. 

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, four days after it started, the shrinking stopped. For two hours the pencil marks on the door jamb had remained the same, then three, and four and five and six.

There’d been a collective holding of breath as the infirmary clock hands crept slowly round and round, ticking off seconds and minutes and hours. The latest round of blood tests had confirmed the white blood cell count was dropping rapidly and it appeared the unidentifiable oddity had been contained, whether by Daniel’s own immune system or, as he suspected, whatever antibodies the water had bestowed on him, the shrinking had stopped.

At 39 inches and 39 pounds. 

Around hour twelve, Daniel had fallen asleep again.

In the meantime an extraction team had been sent to Dr. Jackson’s apartment to liberate old photo albums and Sam and Teal’c had passed a couple of hours pouring over the pictures, trying to figure out from the dates, exactly how old their archeologist might be.

Teal’c believed around seven, Sam had figured he was probably younger, more like five or six. 

Jack had just watched his kid sleep and wondered if it might not have been Daniel’s touching something, but rather his own fault that this had happened. Something strange was going on, besides the archeologist’s shrinking. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but every time the snarky, cynical side of him had tried to come out to play, it had been shut down internally or externally before anything had a chance to come out of his mouth. 

There had been a couple of opportunities to bring up the issues needing resolution, but Jack had found himself inexplicably loathe to add to the pressing weight the kid was already carrying. Curiously, as Daniel de-aged, he’d found it harder and harder to maintain the irritation that had fueled his anger and antagonism. No one had ever accused him of effusive compassion, but it appeared, after fear, to be the most distinct emotion he was feeling.

Fear seemed to come visiting at regular intervals, which had suited Jack just fine. You didn’t live to be a ripe old age without a self-respecting amount of fear, and if Daniel refused to be afraid – well then, Jack would be afraid for him – nothing new there, he was always afraid for Daniel.

For five days, sleep had remained captive to the terror that if he slept there would be no Daniel when he woke. Frasier, exasperated, but understanding, hadn’t pushed the issue until she’d been positive herself there would be more than a puddle of genomes left when O’Neill awoke. Then, and only then, did she put the full force of her C.M.O. title behind her directive to rest. 

The Colonel, with his usual loose interpretation of orders, had lain down on top of the covers next to Daniel, who was curled in a ball under the covers, cuddled the kid as close as possible and literally been asleep before he’d closed his eyes. 

Sam and Teal’c had quietly taken an extra blanket and covered the pair. Sam had bent down to push back the second layer so Daniel wasn’t smothered by it. She’d stood for a long moment staring rather blindly, wondering how they were going to deal with this, but grateful it hadn’t taken Daniel from them. And thankful, too, that the Colonel, rather than turning away, had immediately and without reservation poured himself into keeping the archeologist steadfastly on task in an effort to maintain their teammate’s sanity. 

Over the years they’d seen some strange things. She herself had been blended with a Tok’ra, who’d subsequently died, _and_ had her body inhabited by an alien entity. The Colonel had been internally colonized by an alien race and Daniel had been taken over by a wily old man who’d kidnapped the linguist’s body and left Daniel’s consciousness in the dying husk of his own corporeal form. While trying to figure out how to correct that, she’d accidentally switched the Colonel and Teal’c’s consciousnesses into each other’s bodies, and ultimately Daniel into the Colonel’s body before finally returning him to his own. They had all been cloned, their real bodies held in stasis for who knows how long; had all been implanted with a sentient life form who went by the name of Urgo, and she and the Colonel and Teal’c had been implanted with vivid and horrifying memories of Daniel’s death by fire.

On reflection, a down-sized teammate didn’t seem so out of the ordinary after all. And they’d fix all those things that had happened to them . . . eventually. 

They would fix this too, Sam had reasoned with relief. It might take some time, but there was nothing SG-1 couldn’t accomplish if they put their minds to it.

* * *

In her office, Dr. Frasier turned off the monitor.

In his quarters, Teal’c sank gratefully into a meditative state of kelnorim, as certain as Major Carter that all would be well. After all, he had left O’Neill restored to his state as chief-protector of Daniel Jackson.

In the medical suite Daniel drifted into his first REM sleep in days, his body instinctively relaxing within the shielded environment of warmth and familiar arms holding him.

Jack slept, though poorly, his dreams filled with images of a dead or dying Daniel. He woke before dawn according to his watch, and lay reflecting on the exact same things his 2IC had been thinking over the night before. Daniel had snuggled up against him in the night like a heat-seeking missile – a gift he realized – that was totally undeserved. The poor kid should have been running as far and as fast as he could from the big, bad Colonel; he certainly had given Daniel no reason to trust him so implicitly. 

An hour later, when the child in his arms still hadn’t stirred, Jack carefully worked his prickling forearm out from under the small, blond head, and eased up off the bed. He answered the call of nature and brushed his teeth, made a quick trip back to the bed to assess the possibility that Daniel might wake anytime soon and decided he could probably get in a shower too.

Except he calculated wrong and very nearly died; not of the heart attack hearing his name screeched at the top of small lungs caused, nor even slipping on the slick tile floor as he lunged for a towel. He nearly died of strangulation when the towel he’d used to wipe shampoo out of his eyes caught on the bathroom door and wrapped around his neck, jerking him back hard enough to give him a mild case of whip lash when his feet skidded out from under him. He landed jarringly on his bare ass, sucked in air, shook off the dizziness, and scrambled to his feet, whipping the towel around his modesty as he kicked the door open and raced to the bed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he snatched up the screaming child, blankets and all, and cuddled him close. “Shhhh, shhhhh, shhhhhh, it’s okay, I’m right here, Daniel.” He bent and switched on the bedside lamp, bathing them in the soft glow. “Shhhhh, Daniel, I’m right here.” Tiny toes scrabbled for purchase inside the blanket, digging into vulnerable parts of his anatomy. Jack sat down abruptly, shifting his burden higher up his chest. Small arms fought free of the restricting covers to wrap convulsively around his shampoo-slick neck, sharp little fingernails digging in excruciatingly.

Jack ignored all the discomfort and concentrated on calming the frantic bundle in his arms. “I’m right here, Danny, it’s okay,” he soothed, instinctively wrapping his large hand around the fragile neck. “It’s okay, buddy, it’s okay.” 

The hiccupping sobs gradually ceased, but with the cessation of the fright came awareness. Instead of fighting it, Daniel laid his head on Jack’s shoulder with a long sigh. 

“Better?” Jack asked after awhile. He felt the kid nod and heard him sniff, but there was no other reply, so he continued to massage the tense, miniature muscles at the junction of neck and spinal cord until Daniel was completely relaxed again.

“How’re we gonna do this, Jack?” The voice was childish, but the words were too adult, and too weary, to be from the frightened child. 

“I’m going to lay you back down, okay?” Jack said, remembering Charlie had never liked sudden, unexpected movement. He cradled the pliant body on one arm and turned so he could ease the kid back down in the bed. Even so, every muscle in the small body instantly stiffened and the small clawed fingers left long scratches down his soapy arm. 

A sharp wail of nooooooooo was abruptly cut off by the adult side. Daniel grabbed at Jack’s wrist and hung on for dear life. It was more than disconcerting to be slung around like a sack of potatoes, though some part of his adult mind recognized Jack was very gently easing him back down on the bed. The child did not want to part company with the security of being clasped tightly to the shower-warm chest and was certain every molecule in his body was going to fly apart without that restraining hold. 

“We need to talk, but I also need to get the soap off both of us now and get dressed. How do you want to handle this?” Jack asked quietly, swiping at his burning eyes.

Daniel lay still staring up at the face looming over him, so disproportionately intimidating in size it made him want to burrow under the covers and hide. “I have to pee,” he said finally, pushing back the covers Jack had just pulled back up over him.

“Okay, so why don’t you come and pee while I finish showering.”

A glittering tear plopped down on Daniel’s hand. Frowning, he tilted his head to look at it, then back up at his friend. He reached his other hand to touch a finger to the small puddle on the back of his hand. “You’re crying?”

“And likely to cry some more if I don’t get this shampoo outta my eyes shortly. It’s burning like crazy. Come on.” Jack grabbed for his towel as he rose. “You pee while I rinse off, then you can shower while I shave. Sound like a plan?”

“Okay,” the kid sniffed, taking the large hand extended toward him and pulling himself up out of the nest of covers. “That I can handle.”

“Good, come on.” Jack steered his charge toward the steamy bathroom and left him to do his business as he stepped into the still running shower and divested himself of the soaked towel. 

“Jack?”

“Hmmm?”

“I can’t reach the sink.”

A quiet, “shit,” echoed inside the bathroom walls.

“You’re probably not supposed to use language like that around me now,” Daniel pointed out, climbing up on the closed toilet seat. 

Jack, when he stuck his head around the shower curtain to make sure it was still _little_ Daniel in the bathroom, found his charge standing in the sink bowl, rubbing at the mirror with wads of toilet paper.

Thankfully he was soap free or they might have both ended up on the floor ass-first when he snatched the kid out of the slippery sink. Heart pounding, he deposited him on the floor and grabbed the second towel off the rack just as Daniel turned around.

Miniature fists were planted on miniature hips and a scowling face was turned up to glower at the Colonel. For just a second, however, fear widened those revealing eyes. 

Recognizing it, Jack hastily bent his protesting knee and knelt so he wasn’t towering over the child. “Please don’t do that again, Daniel. That’s twice this morning I’ve nearly died of a heart attack,” he said, crossing his arms over his bent knee.

“Twice?” Daniel asked curiously, immediately sidetracked.

“When you woke up screaming it scared the living daylights out of me.” 

“Oh . . . me too.”

“When I woke up screaming I scared the daylights out of you?”

“Very funny, Jack. You don’t have to do this, you could sit on the toilet at least, that would be easier on your knee, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m good for the moment. What did you want to tell me?”

“Well, for starters, I think you can’t be kneeling down every time I need to talk to you.”

“Maybe not, but I think it might be easier for me to kneel than for you to carry around a step ladder all the time,” O’Neill responded with his usual irreverence.

Daniel frowned again. “This isn’t funny.”

“No,” Jack agreed solemnly. “But if we can’t laugh about it, where does that leave us? Besides, you took a crack at making me laugh with that language comment.”

Yes, the adult-side of him had been making a joke. Maybe the adult-side understood this better than the kid-side did. 

“So,” Jack prompted again. “What did you want to tell me?”

The frown deepened, creasing a tiny line between the soft, blond eyebrows. “I can’t remember.”

For a moment, Jack let the wheels continue to churn, then suggested, “So, while you’re thinking, how ‘bout you get in the shower. Okay if I adjust the water while you undress?” He’d exited the shower in such a hurry it still hadn’t gotten turned off.

“You’ll have to,” Daniel replied, shimmying out of the scrub bottoms they’d barely been able to drawstring tight enough to keep on him. “I can’t reach the knobs anymore.”

The Colonel turned down the hot and turned up the cold, rescued his small companion from the folds of the too-large scrub shirt and set him gently inside the shower on top of the towel he’d laid over the slippery stall floor. He moved the shampoo from the shoulder level, on him, ledge, to the floor, pulled the soap out of the drain where it had slipped, and handed the kid a washcloth. “Let me know if you need help, okay?”

Daniel nodded solemnly, holding the washcloth strategically as he hopped from one foot to the other. “It’s too cold!”

“Tell me when,” Jack replied, dialing the hot-water knob higher.

“That’s good, thank you.”

“Guess what,” Jack called a few minutes later, having finished his morning ablutions and gone to investigate the noise he’d heard.

“What?” Daniel yelled back.

“The good faeries came visiting while we were otherwise occupied.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, for what it’s worth, it probably means Carter and Frasier have been shopping. You have real clothes to wear.”

The same good faeries had left clean clothes for him as well, for which he was very thankful. He could barely remember the last time he’d showered and put on clean underwear.

“Jack?”

O’Neill stuck his head around the partially open door and found his kid standing in the middle of the floor, a towel anchored by one hand around his waist, staring longingly up the mirror. 

“There’s a full-length mirror on the back of the door in the women’s shower over in the infirmary. We’ll sneak in when we’re ready to go to breakfast and you can have a good long look, okay?”

Daniel debated a moment, then nodded agreement. The compromise was much better than making Jack hold him up until he’d looked his fill. 

Feeling his tiny hands going through the motions of washing himself had been just plain weird. It would take a lot of getting used to, this downsized form. His body had no memory of being this size, only his brain, and his brain was squawking at the awkward maneuverability of this new packaging. The Cadillac RV of bodies it most definitely was not, much less a Hummer. 

The clothes were scratchy and biting at the back of the neck, but Jack pulled out his trusty red pen knife and cut out the tag, so the shirt was better, but the jeans were a little big and kept sliding down around his ass.

“It’s fashionable.”

Daniel just looked at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Since when have you been into fashion?”

“Oh pleeeeeazzzzze.” Jack rolled his eyes. “You can’t go to the grocery store without seeing ‘em with their crotch sagging down around their knees and their boxers hanging out. Most of ‘em have to walk bow-legged just to keep the damn things on their skinny asses. Come on, if we can’t improvise something, we’ll get some duct tape from Siler and tape them to your shirt.”

“I don’t think so.” Daniel planted his small self, both hands holding onto his pants, and refused to budge. “I’m not leaving here looking like this.”

“Oh come on, _you_ never worried about what you looked like before.”

“Yes, well, that was before, this is now. I’m not going out hanging onto my pants just to keep them on.”

“Okay.” Jack sat down on the edge of the unmade bed. This once he would leave it for the cleaning crew that came through every day. He considered for a moment, then picked up the phone and dialed the maintenance office. “Siler, we need a roll of duct tape in med suite one as soon as possible . . . thanks,” he said and hung up. “He’s on is way.”

“I’m not wearing my pants duct-taped to my shirt.”

“You won’t have to, we can make a belt out of duct tape, it rolls up on itself nicely, it will make a great belt until we can get a real one. Little bit stretchy, pliable, we can probably even makeshift a buckle and tang.”

Daniel sighed. “I’m hungry.”

“We could meet Siler on the way to the commissary.” When he got no answer, Jack crooked a finger. “Come here.” Seeing the obstinate look that immediately formed, he sighed and amended, “Daniel, would you please come here?” When the kid reluctantly came, he pulled him between his knees and took him by the shoulders. “This isn’t going to be easy for either of us. And I don’t want to be tightrope walking around you all the time, okay? So I need you to tell me things – you’re very good at communicating about things like work and policy and social injustice, Daniel – but I need you to tell me things about how you feel. Like the shirt.” Jack patted the miniature button-down Henley under the blue-plaid shirt. “Okay? You told me you didn’t like how the shirt felt and we were able to fix it, but I’m not always going to guess right when you need something and you don’t tell me. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“Sure.” Daniel nodded solemnly. “You’re trying to tell me I have no independence anymore, that I have to rely on someone else to do practically everything for me again.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Guess it wasn’t too subtle for you at all, huh?”

A knock at the door alerted them to their duct tape delivery.

“Come in, it’s open,” Jack called. He automatically wrapped his arms around the kid as Daniel turned and backed up between his knees.

“Your duct tape, sir,” Siler left the door open as he stepped inside to hand over the roll. “Anything else you need from me, sir?”

“Not at the moment, thanks though.”

“Yes, sir.” Without another word, the stoic maintenance man left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

“Can we eat in here?” Daniel asked in a very small voice.

“How about we go over to the women’s locker room and then decide. You can at least see what people are seeing that way.”

“Or you could just stand me on the counter in here and hold me so I don’t fall.”

“Or we could do that,” Jack agreed.

“I’d rather do that.”

“Your wish is my command.” He hefted the kid to his hip and walked them into the bathroom. “A room with a view,” he offered, wrapping both hands around the slight waist and standing him on the sink counter.

“Well,” Daniel said, after a long silence, “at least I’ve got my teeth.”

It was so incongruous and so out of the blue, O’Neill snorted, then laughed outright. “Hey,” he parroted, “at least you’ve got your teeth.”

“It’s not funny,” Daniel retorted. “I think when I was this age before I was missing my two front teeth.”

The chortling behind him stopped abruptly, but the Colonel’s twitching smile appeared by his right shoulder. “My bad, at least you’ve got your teeth,” he intoned soberly, then ruined the effect by snorting again. “Sorry, the image that inspired is hardly that of a little kid.”

“Put me down.”

Jack obligingly swung him to the floor. “Are we still eating in here?”

A courtesy knock preceded the opening of the door again as a cart was wheeled into the room by Teal’c, outfitted in a Chef’s hat and apron, followed by Carter bearing a full coffee pot and several mugs clinking on the fingers of her other hand. 

“Morning, gentlemen,” Sam caroled, looking altogether too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

“Guess that answers my question.” Jack followed Daniel back to the bed, picking up the duct tape as he sat down. It hadn’t surprised him in the least when Siler’s sudden appearance had immediately activated Daniel’s shy side. It did surprise him now when the kid squirmed between his knees again, sidling back up against his chest as though in need of protection. 

“Teal’c’s really big,” Daniel whispered, sparking one of those ah ha moments for the Colonel. 

“I need him to be big,” Jack whispered back, wrapping both arms around his friend as he manipulated the short piece of duct tape he’d torn off the roll. “So he can watch your six when you’re big.”

A small, oh, acknowledged the reply, but apparently didn’t do anything to ease the disconcerting relative distortion suddenly being 39” instead of 72” seemed to have caused. Daniel remained tucked up securely against him.

Teal’c proceeded to transfer cutlery and plates to the small round table, rearranged various covered dishes on the cart to his satisfaction and turned with a sweeping bow. “Your breakfast is served, Daniel Jackson. Do you wish pancakes or waffles this morning?” As he spoke, he removed the lids, releasing a heavenly scent. 

Daniel turned his head up under Jack’s chin. “Hope you’re hungry, they brought enough to feed an army.”

Jack, making like a penguin looking down at his nestling, closed one eye. “I didn’t hear my name being called to breakfast.”

“You look funny, and it’s obvious we’re all eating here.”

“You look funny from this angle too,” Jack retorted, “Bird’s eye view though. Here, let’s get this belt fixed up for you before we go eat.”

“Morning, Sam,” Daniel offered shyly, wrapping an arm around Jack’s leg as the Colonel fed the rolled-up duct tape through the miniscule belt loops. “Hey, Teal’c.”

Sam came over to sit down on the bed. “Morning, Daniel. How are you feeling?”

“There ya go.” Jack cinched the makeshift belt and tied the ends. “Better?”

Daniel nodded. “Janet told you to ask me that, didn’t she?”

“Hmmm.” Sam neither confirmed nor denied. “Even if she did, I would have asked myself. So are you gonna tell me?”

Daniel rolled a shoulder. “I don’t like how I’m feeling, but I think I’m feeling okay, if that makes sense.”

“I think understand. You’re not feeling bad physically, but maybe not so good here?” She reached around Jack’s arm to pat Daniel’s chest over his heart.

The unbidden thought that he’d have to get used to being touched constantly, and without his permission, had him cringing back slightly.

Sam saw and realized her mistake immediately. Adult Daniel did not easily allow them into his personal space. “I’m sorry,” she apologized. “That was incredibly thoughtless of me. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“It’s okay, Sam. I understand.”

Sam smiled sadly. “You probably do, but I have to remember that even though you look like an adorable little kid, you’re not.”

“Enough with the mushy stuff,” O’Neill announced. “I’m starved.”

“What may I serve you, O’Neill?”

“I’ll take whatever Daniel’s not having. Come on, kid.” He gave the archeologist a gentle pat on the rear to get him moving. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

“General Hammond would like us to get together again, sir, and discuss what further steps we’re going to take now that the crisis is over,” Sam imparted over eggs and toast. 

Daniel was shoveling down waffles as though he hadn’t eaten in a month.

Teal’c had simply loaded up his plate with the leftovers and inhaled them. He was sitting back with a glass of orange juice.

Jack finished off his pancakes and made a pre-emptive strike on Daniel’s waffles, receiving for his efforts, the imprint of fork tines in the back of his hand. “Ouch.”

“You know I don’t like people eating off my plate.”

“So sue me, I was hoping that had changed with the down-sizing.” Jack nursed his stinging hand.

“Nothing’s changed except I have to stand on my tip toes to do anything now.”

“We’ll buy out the local drug stores of step stools and return them when we’ve fixed this.”

Daniel put down his fork abruptly, turning big eyes on the Colonel. “Do you really think we can fix this?”

“Of course, we’ve fixed everything else haven’t we? Listen.” Jack held up his hand for silence when Daniel would have gone on.

“To what?” the kid asked after a moment of perplexed listening.

“Exactly,” O’Neill grinned. “There’s no Urgo in your head is there?” He leaned over and pinched Daniel lightly.

“Hey,” Daniel rubbed the spot exaggeratedly, mimicking the Colonel’s earlier antics. “What was that for?”

”You felt it didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, I’m little, not –”

“A clone,” Jack inserted deftly. ‘Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” Daniel asked, surprising all three adults with his delighted grin.

“No, that’s my question,” the Colonel informed him. “Who’s there?”

“Just me.”

“Exactly,” Jack repeated, “Just you, not me, or Teal’c, or even Machello.” He picked up his coffee and sat back, eyeing the kid over the rim of his mug.

“I get it,” Daniel wriggled excitedly. “If we could fix all those things, we can fix this!” he shouted.

Jack inclined his head Teal’c style while Sam smiled indulgently and slipped her hands under her legs so she wouldn’t inadvertently snatch the kid out of his chair and hug him to pieces.

“Toward that end,” Teal’c leaned forward and set his glass on top of his empty plate, “if I am correct in my surmise as to what occurred on U2R-M31, this may perhaps be more easily reversed than we had supposed.”

“I think we’re on the same page, T, but let’s save it for the briefing.”

Daniel scrambled up on his chair so he was standing and the tiny fists slammed down on the tiny hips again. “I remember what I wanted to say to you!” he stomped a small foot exasperatedly.

Jack just slid a finger through a belt loop and raised an eyebrow. “Did you now? Would you like to share it here? On the way to the briefing? Or at the briefing?”

“It’s important,” Daniel growled.

“More important that resizing you to an adult?”

“No, but _as_ important while I’m in this body!”

“Okay, you’ve got the floor. The General won’t mind having had to wait a few more minutes when I tell him you had something really important to tell us.”

Daniel took a deep breath and blew it out. “All right, I can tell you after we get there, but this is important.”

“May I convey you to the briefing room, Daniel Jackson? I do not believe your short legs will be able to keep up with us as rapidly as we wish to travel. Especially as you have something very important to impart.”

“Sam got it without having to be told,” Daniel huffed, raising his arms so Teal’c could pluck him off the chair.

“We all get it, Daniel,” Jack grinned, “but you’re gonna have to cut us some slack. You’re really cute in this incarnation.”

“I’m never gonna live this down,” Daniel sighed, burying his face in Teal’c’s shoulder. At least that way he wouldn’t have to see all the strange looks he got being carried to his first ever briefing as a six-year-old.

* * *

General Hammond was just entering the briefing room as SG-1 arrived. Teal’c stood Daniel on the table as the General came to meet them.

“Good morning, SG-1. You look much more rested, Dr. Jackson. And you’re no longer green.”

“Oh, yeah, can’t call you Plant Boy anymore.” Jack shoved his hands in his pockets, though the latent parent in him moved to stand at the end of the table.

“Oh, I forgot about being green. When did it go away?”

“It had pretty much faded by the second day of shrinking,” Sam supplied. “What was it you wanted to tell us, Daniel?”

“Never mind,” Daniel muttered, “Can I sit here?” he asked, surprised at how close the table top was to his ass when he sank down. “I won’t be able to see over the table if I sit in one of the chairs.”

“Certainly you may,” the General agreed, pulling out a side chair and taking a seat by Daniel. “How do you feel, son?”

“I feel fine, sir. Sam said it best, I don’t feel sick or anything, at least not physically, but I don’t feel real good in here right now.” He was sitting Indian fashion on the end of the table nearest the window. He patted over his heart before crossing his arms in his lap and leaning forward on his elbows. “How are you feeling?” It was out before he could begin to imagine where the words had come from and he glanced at Jack helplessly.

Hammond smiled jovially. “I feel fine too, Dr. Jackson, but like you, I don’t feel just right in here either.” The officer and gentleman patted over his own heart. “Let’s hope we can discover a means of fixing this so we can both feel right again.”

“I hope so, sir. Jack and Teal’c think they might have an idea.”

“Colonel?” the General asked sharply. “Something new?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last few days, sir, and I suppose it kind of coalesced this morning as I was staring at myself in the mirror.”

Hammond tilted his head inquiringly but didn’t interrupt.

“Shaving, sir. I think I may have figured out why this happened, though the how is still . . .” Jack shrugged, “out there . . . somewhere.”

“Do tell, Colonel.”

“I’m curious as well, sir,” Carter chimed in.

“I’ve been going over and over what went on while we were on that planet and trying to connect the dots. It occurs to me, both Carter and I made off-the-cuff remarks about wishing things were different.” Jack swallowed down the lump in his throat. 

General Hammond waited patiently when it became apparent his 2IC was overcome by some strong emotion. 

Daniel reached out and patted Jack’s wrist unexpectedly. “He wished I would make it easier for him to do his job of watching over me and Sam wished we would kiss and make up, sir.”

General Hammond looked between Sam and Daniel in confusion.

“Uhm, she meant me and Jack, sir, not her and me.”

“Ahhh,” the General nodded sagely, as understanding dawned. “I see. And somehow, Colonel, this contributed to Dr. Jackson’s being downsized?”

Jack raised a finger, though he remained silent for a moment longer. “The final piece of the puzzle, sir, is the inscription on the crystal thingy.”

“The Birth Place of Hope,” Teal’c supplied. “I had surmised the same, O’Neill.”

“But,” Sam countered, “just wishing?”

“Okay, maybe not the final piece,” Jack offered. “You have to think of it in context of Daniel’s assessment that the place represents some kind of . . . you know . . . grail of some sort.”

“Oh.”

Sam and Daniel exchanged glances.

“Oh,” Sam said again. “How come they figured that out and we didn’t?” She glanced around the table at her colleagues. “I don’t know, I can’t believe just wishing . . . I mean, there are so many other ways to accomplish something like that without such dramatic measures.”

“Uhm huh,” O’Neill nodded pleasantly. “Think about it, though. Put aside science for a moment and think in terms of myths and legends. Now add to that the fact that for years I’ve been trying to get Daniel to act like a soldier instead of a civilian. Throw in the thought that maybe all the rest of you have been wishing me to hell and look what we did. Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble,” he quoted himself. “Think about the brew we mixed up for Daniel to go bobbing-for-apples in.”

Sam breathed a not-quite-silent, “Oh my God.”

“But,” O’Neill continued after a moment, “as Teal’c has pointed out, it may be easily reversed. We might just need to go back.”

“I don’t know about that, sir,” Sam said, raising her head to look across the table at O’Neill. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea. It’s possible we could do further harm.”

“That thought crossed my mind too,” Jack agreed. “But maybe if Daniel and I went back alone, since I’m the major culprit here, it would be safe.”

“I agree with Major Carter on this, I’m not sure you should further endanger Dr. Jackson. If this entity, sentient or not, can read your minds . . . I don’t know.”

“If it can, sir, and by going we can resize Daniel to normal, it’s a risk I’m willing to take if Daniel is.”

“I trust Jack, General. Can we go today?” Daniel shifted to his knees with the ease of the very young, learning imploringly into the General’s space. “Please, sir? We can be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“General, you know if you kick this upstairs for a decision they’re gonna tell us no. Sir, Daniel and I need to make this trip. Please – let us go.”

“I believe I can go as a neutral party, General Hammond, I will accompany O’Neill and Daniel Jackson.”

“You’re not leaving me home to worry,” Sam stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, I contributed. I should be there to fix my part as well.”

“Sir?” Daniel begged shamelessly, knowing he could get away with it in this form.

“All right, but don’t make me regret this, people.” General Hammond rose, “I’ll meet you in the gate room in 30 minutes.”

“If I’m right, it shouldn’t take us long, General. We should be back in time for lunch.”

“I hope, for all your sakes, you are correct, Colonel.”

“I hope so too, sir. I hope so too.”

* * *

Daniel shifted from foot to foot anxiously as he stood at the bottom of the ramp next to Jack who was still talking to the General while they waited for the gate to dial. They’d been first to arrive in the gate room. He looked over his shoulder as Sam and Teal’c joined them.

“Daniel,” Sam crouched down beside him and held out her hand. 

Daniel put his free hand in hers, his other being securely held by one Jack O’Neill. “I know, Sam, you don’t have to tell me. This might not work. We’re talking about Jack’s deductive reasoning here, I know,” he repeated, leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially. 

A smile spilled out. “Yeah, I would have said it a little more diplomatically, but – yeah, basically, don’t get up your hopes up.”

“Well,” Daniel shrugged, “a few days of this was an interesting experiment, but I’ll be glad to able to go home to my own place tonight and sleep in my own bed for a change.”

“Bet you will,” Sam agreed, still smiling. 

She was about to rise when Daniel leaned forward again and threw his arm around her neck. “Thanks, Sam,” he said softly. “If nothing else, I think this has maybe helped Jack and me over the hurdle. I’m not sure why, but I’m glad.”

Sam hugged him hard and sat back on her heels. Behind her the Stargate kwooshed to life. “I’m glad for that at least. Maybe it was worth it?”

“Sure, if we can get it fixed it will have been well worth it. If not . . .” Daniel shrugged. “Well then, I’ll let you know.”

“All right, I’m gonna hold you to that.” She took the hand Teal’c offered, rose, and turned with her team to face the Stargate.

“Godspeed, friends. Bring our boy home whole, SG-1.”

“That’s certainly our intention, sir. We’ll do our damnedest.” Jack glanced at his teammates. “Once more into the fray, boys!” He caught Carter’s look and added, “And girls.”

Daniel reached for Sam’s hand as they started up the ramp. “If I have to be little, I may as well get some enjoyment out of it,” he said, picking up his feet.

“Hey!” Jack griped, smiling over Daniel’s head at Carter as he easily accommodated the sudden extra weight.

Sam, too, adjusted quickly, grinning back.

Between them, they picked up Daniel by both hands and with much good-natured laughter made their way up the ramp letting him swing between them.

“On three, Carter. One, two, and three!” 

They both swung hard and stepped into the gate as Daniel swung forward. Teal’c inclined his head toward the General and followed his teammates into the event horizon.

General Hammond bowed his head briefly as the gate shut down and made a wish of his own. “Walter?” he turned and glanced up toward the control room.

“Sir?” the gate technician returned.

“Call me if SG-1 isn’t back by noon.”

“Yes, sir.”

General Hammond exited the gate room shaking his head. Of all the Kodak moments he’d filed away over the course of this unique command, this last would be one he’d cherish for the rest of his life. The memory even came with full Dolby surround sound – of Dr. Jackson’s cheerful laughter bouncing around the walls of the gate room. 

It was a sound he couldn’t remember ever hearing before.

* * *

Several hundred thousand light years across several hundred thousand galaxies, SG-1 stumbled out of the wormhole just as a brilliant flare lit the panorama.

It was beyond description – space lightening and fireworks, a thunderstorm with stardust instead of rain, a laser light show put on by a galaxy birthing a new star, more colors than could be named, all shimmering against the iridescent backdrop of the new born star. 

“Holy Hannah,” Carter whispered. “We’ve just witnessed something no other human being has seen with the naked eye. Well, a least not in our galaxy,” she amended.

“Yeah, is it safe?”

“Well, sir, I don’t think it matters now.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c affirmed. 

“How cool was that?” Daniel breathed, totally awestruck.

“An auspicious beginning to our quest, Daniel Jackson. Come, let us ascertain if this new born star is a good omen.”

 

~*~


End file.
